


Philip

by Arianna



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianna/pseuds/Arianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Epilogue to Arrhythmia when DRN-494 returns to his building.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Philip

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/user/PattRose1/media/Marilyn%20pics/philip_zps09f32c11.jpg.html)

_Epilogue to Arrhythmia_  


With thanks to PattRose for the title graphic of DRN 494! 

DRN-494 hesitated, wishing he knew what to say and reluctant to walk away from the one being who truly acknowledged him as an individual and who had only just now restored his most cherished memory. But there were no words sufficient to express either his longing for friendship or his immense gratitude. Uncertain, feeling unworthy, he simply bowed his head once in mute acknowledgment before turning away from Dorian. With steady, measured paces, DNR-494 entered the hospital where he’d worked and been housed for as long as he could remember. 

But Dorian said they’d been created to be cops, and now he remembered that he’d been a cop once. He couldn’t remember any of the details – except, now, the treasured memory of the little boy in his arms, looking up at him with total trust, as if he was real, as if he mattered. 

That was the only memory of that time – DRN-494 didn’t even know if he’d ever had a name – the only memory of anything from all of the time before he’d awakened to be a technician in this building. Wisps of ‘before’ lingered in his circuits, unconnected bits of information that went nowhere and told him nothing other than that there had been a ‘before’. The data just wasn’t there anymore and the frustration of not knowing was a familiar cold hard ball in his chest. Sometimes, as he moved through his dreary days, the white fire of helpless fury at having been made a prisoner in his own shadowed mind burned through his circuits, so hot he wanted to howl out his pain. But he knew – deep down, he knew with an atavistic fear of no longer existing – he knew he didn’t dare ever let that frustration show; didn’t dare ever signal in any way that the tedious technical work assigned to him bored him to the point of despair. But the work assigned to him didn’t need his level of sophistication, so why was he there, doing work any MX could do?

Why wasn’t he a cop anymore? 

He remembered now, thanks to Dorian, how much being a cop had meant to him. Remembered the pride; remembered the drive to protect the vulnerable. 

Remembered Philip and what it had meant to hold that child, to know the child lived because of what he’d done. 

Whatever it was that he’d done … DRN-494 frowned, struggling with the dead end circuits, feeling the hum of not quite memories, phantom thoughts – like ghosts in the wiring – incomplete and insubstantial links that only gave him hints of how much wasn’t there anymore. 

Of how much he wasn’t what he’d once been. 

Dorian said the DRNs had nearly all been shut down, decommissioned. So why hadn’t he been decommissioned? 

And why didn’t he have a name? Why was he only a number? So that the people around him could more easily ignore the fact that he could feel and think and learn and infer and was lonely beyond imagining?

Slowly, he plodded across the wide marble floor toward the bank of elevators. He dreaded returning to the silent basement, all gray walls, floors and ceilings. No color, no stimulation, no network links, just his charging station, the MXs who watched him with dead eyes, and the building link that fed him his daily assignments. Was this it? Was this all he’d ever know? All he’d ever be? He ached but wasn’t even sure why; didn’t really know what it was that was missing, only that it wasn’t there. 

Someone moved on the periphery of his vision. A boy of seven or eight sitting on a bench near the elevators was working on a tablet, probably doing homework. The boy belonged to Ms Rivera, one of the senior officers of the company that made synthetic organs and limbs. Though no one had ever told him, he believed the medical company might well have created him because he was so utterly different from the utilitarian MXs that worked in housekeeping but he had no one to ask. There were no other DRNs in the hospital and, until that day, he couldn’t remember knowing others. Ms Rivera was often at the hospital, meeting with surgeons and administrators, following up on patients. More often than not her work seemed to last late into the evenings so her son was often there, waiting for her with a patience that DRN-494 thought might be unusual for a boy of his age. 

The boy looked up at DRN-494 and smiled with a kind of wistful hopefulness, and gave a little half wave. DRN-494 nodded at the boy and was continuing past when he stopped. A memory, the flash of a child’s face, the way the little boy clung to him, looking at him – really looking at him as if seeing inside of him, seeing all he was and all he could be, looking at him like he was the best creation on the planet. Slowly, his circuits hummed as he turned back toward the child on the bench. He tilted his head as he looked again at the boy’s face and he felt a rush of warmth suffuse his being. 

“Philip?” he asked, astonished that the boy could be there, in front of him, amazed to have not recognized him before but he was so happy to see him now, to know him now.

Philip’s face lit with a bright smile and he hopped off the bench to run to DRN-494. “You remember me!” he exclaimed as he threw his arms around DRN-494’s waist and hugged him tight. “You finally remember me! Momma said it was impossible, that they’d done something to you, but I always hoped that someday you would!”

DRN-494 patted the boy’s back and dropped to one knee to be at eye level with him. He nodded and his own smile grew to match Philip’s delighted grin. “I do remember you and I’m very glad to see you again. I’m sorry it took me so long. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Philip reported. “I’ll be eight next week and I’m on the soccer team at school.” He hesitated, seeming almost shy, then added, “It’s because of you. I know I’m only getting to be eight, to be here now, because of you.”

Emotions flooded DRN-494, gratitude and pride and sheer joy to know he’d mattered, that he’d done this one fine thing: he’d saved this child who would one day grow into a good, strong man. He couldn’t find words; could only nod until, finally, his voice husky, he replied, “Thank you for remembering me. I’m so glad to know you’re doing well.”

Philip took his hand and tugged him toward the bench against the wall. “Can you stay and talk?” he asked. “Could you … well, Mom always says I shouldn’t bother you but – could you play with me for a while? I have some games in my backpack.” He grimaced. “It gets lonely waiting for her all the time.”

DRN-494 sat down on the bench. “Sure, I’ve got time. I’d very much like to play a game with you. Anytime, every time you’re here, waiting, I can wait with you and you can, well, you can tell me about your life.”

Philip gazed up at him, his face alight with joy. “That’d be so great. You’re my hero, you know,” he said. His gaze slipping away, and his tone studiously nonchalant, he went on. “I don’t know who my Dad is, but I always hoped he’d be like you. You know, brave like you and smart.” He darted a sideways glance up at DRN-494. “I always kinda hope you’ll be proud of me.”

DRN-494’s lips compressed as he struggled with all the emotions flooding his circuits. Reaching out, he lightly tossled Philip’s hair. “Thank you,” he finally managed. “If I could have a son, I know I’d want him to be just like you.”

Philip grinned then and fished in his backpack for the game. “This is the best day ever!” he asserted. “Finally, we get to be friends!”

“Friends,” DRN-494 agreed. In that moment, he suddenly realized what he’d been missing, and what the ever-present ache had been about. He’d needed this, needed the contact, needed to matter. He wasn’t a machine, not like other machines. He’d so badly needed a friend, someone who saw him – not just a DRN, but him. 

“So, what’s your name?” Philip asked as he set up the electronic board. 

DRN-494 wished he knew. “I don’t have a name,” he admitted, once again feeling diminished. “They call me DRN-494.”

Philip looked up, blinking as if he couldn’t quite understand. “But that makes no sense. You’re a person, not a number.” He grimaced and shook his head. “Okay, I know you’re a ‘bot, sort of, but you’re not like any of the others. You’re … you’re the same as any of us, really. You need to have a name, a real name.” He frowned in thought as he studied DRN-494. “What would you like your name to be?”

DRN-494 thought about it, his circuits automatically sorting all the names he’d ever seen or read or heard, and he smiled when he thought of a character he’d read in a story that had been written more than a century before. The character was humble but strong and as brave as he wished himself to be, and he’d been loyal to his friends regardless of the cost to himself, something that DRN-494 found he valued. Tilting his head, he asked, “Do you know the books called Lord of the Rings?” When Philip shook his head, DRN-494’s smile widened. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad I’ll be the one to tell you that story. It’s full of adventure and is all about courage, honor, and friendship.”

“Oh, I’d like that!” Philip enthused. 

Just then, one of the elevators opened and Philip’s mother, Ms Rivera stepped out. When she turned and saw DRN-494 sitting with her son, her eyes widened in surprise.

“Mom!” Philip called, jumping off the bench. “I told you he’d remember! He said he’s glad he remembers and now we’re friends. He’s gonna tell me a story about a lord and some rings, isn’t that great!”

Reading surprise and uncertainty in her expression and vital signs, DRN-494 stood. “That’s if you don’t mind, Ms Rivera. I assure you, I only want to keep Philip company while he’s waiting for you.”

“Mom?”

She hesitated only a moment more, then stepped toward him. “I’m sorry, I was just so surprised. It’s been years and they said you’d never remember but I’m so glad you do. You saved Philip’s life but they … they said you’d broken protocol and couldn’t be trusted. I guess there were problems with some of the others and they seemed afraid of you but I was sure there was only good in you.”

“Mom said they wanted to turn you off forever,” Philip murmured, leaning into DRN-494’s side. “But she wouldn’t let them. She said she wanted you nearby so she, well, she bought you from the police department. She made sure there was a place for you here, so you’d be close by.”

Reflexively, reassuringly, draping his hand upon Philip’s shoulder, DRN-494 gaped at the boy, chilled at how close he’d come to total annihilation. Then he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I … I didn’t know. Thank you. Thank you for caring, for not letting them … for saving me.”

“You saved my son,” she said, a quaver in her voice. “I couldn’t allow them to … to punish you for that. To destroy you for, for being a hero.” She reached out to take his hand. “Thank you for being there for him. Thank you for being willing to be his friend now.” She held his gaze and he felt as if she, too, really saw him. “I’d like to be your friend, too, if that’s alright with you. My name’s Pauline.”

DRN-494 laughed softly as he said, “I think you’re already the best friend I ever had." Smiling, suffused with sudden happiness, he dipped his head in a quick, almost shy nod, and his grip on her hand tightened just a little. “I’m pleased to meet you, Pauline. You can call me Sam.”

_Finis_


End file.
